


Hell of a Thing

by catsplosion



Series: Scars and Stories [8]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Oral Sex, PTSD, Shared Trauma, Sleep Deprivation, slow sleepy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2305001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsplosion/pseuds/catsplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard forgot that she's not the only one who danced with death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell of a Thing

Shepard sat on the floor the observation deck, a cup of coffee cradled in her lap, resting her forehead on the cool glass. Deep down she understood that this was a bad habit, but some nights, nights when those nightmares chased her out of bed, sweating and screaming, it was easier to yield to the compulsion.

This close to the window, she had no reflection, no body, nothing between her mind and the stars. She shivered. Sleep deprivation, said a voice in the back of her head, but it felt like the cold vacuum of space and her heart began to pound -

The door opened, startling her. She straightened her spine and the illusion was broken.

She needed to stop doing this.

Zaeed’s reflection crossed the room. “Mind if I have a cup?”

Since he’d already picked up the percolator, she didn’t bother answering. Her shoulders slumped. “How long have you known?”

He sat on a bench facing the glass, resting his forearms on his thighs. “A while.”

Shepard didn’t ask how he knew. It might fall under the heading of things they didn’t talk about. She respected the rules.

“What I don’t know is why.” It wasn’t a demand or even a request. It was an invitation.

She rested one hand on the window, palm-to-palm with her reflection. “Sometimes when I fall asleep, I remember it. Or dream it. But it’s like dying all over again, and I don’t… I can’t…" Shaking her head, she rubbed her forehead. “What about you? What’s -” She paused. She almost said what’s got you afraid to sleep. “Why do you need coffee at three AM?”

“Got a goddamn headache like you wouldn’t believe. Happens sometimes.”

She finally turned to face him. He was staring straight ahead, looking weary even for him. Something echoed inside her. “You remember too, don’t you?”

He glanced over at her, looking as raw as she felt. “Yeah. Sometimes I do. Not quite the same as yours though, is it?”

She dragged the back of her forearm across her tired eyes. A bullet to the head? Sounded a lot like dying. “It’s close enough.”

He sat back on the bench, letting his head tip back. “Hell of a thing, ain’t it?”

She studied him. She could see the heaviness in his shoulders and the sudden swell of need overwhelmed her. Setting aside her coffee, she furtively crawled over to where he sat, took away his coffee, and slid her hands up his inner thighs. Their eyes met, and he gave her half a grin.

Under his gaze she massaged his cock through his pants, smiling as he grew hard against her palm. He groaned as she unzipped his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock. She ran the flat of her tongue along the underside of his shaft, and when she took him deep into her mouth he grabbed her head with one hand. He never pulled or pushed - she loved that about him - the flex of his fingers in her hair was all the encouragement she needed. She gripped his cock with one hand as she swirled her tongue around the head, sucking him vigorously enough to hollow her cheeks.

She wanted to feel his cock pulsing in her mouth, wanted to taste his release, but when he slipped his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his, she could see that he had something else in mind. The kiss was rough and sloppy with lust, and he forced her backwards as he dropped to his knees with her, one hand still cupping her face as he pushed her pants down.

Barely even breaking the kiss, he spun her around by her hips, catching her lower legs between his knees. She could feel his heartbeat against her back and his cock against her ass as he put his hand between her legs. His fingers easily parted her slick folds and he growled in her ear.

Zaeed pushed her down with a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding her steady as he rubbed the head of his cock along her wet slit. She tilted her hips, craning around so he could see her desperate look. He grazed his along her back and gripped her hips firmly, holding her still as he slowly filled her.

Shepard didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she released it in a ragged moan. She tried to buck back against him, but he held her in place as he pumped his cock in and out of her slowly, grunting every time his hips ground her ass.

Their reflection on the window caught her eye, over the backdrop of stars; the look of singular determination visible on Zaeed’s face as he thrust into her slowly. She saw herself, her lips parted, loose strands of brown hair around her face, her eyes heavy-lidded with a mix of exhaustion and pleasure. She watched her jaw work ever so slightly as he filled her and the crease that formed briefly between her brows. That knot in her chest loosened.

Shutting her eyes, she focused on his fingertips digging into her hips, on the slight discomfort of her pants wadded up under her knees, on the pressure winding deliciously tight inside her.

As if he knew, Zaeed leaned over her, sliding one hand along her hip to press his fingertips against her clit. He began to thrust hard, almost hard enough to hurt, and on the fourth Shepard cried out, digging the heels of her hands into the carpet to press against him, and through her haze she felt him come undone along with her. When he sagged against her, trembling, she found the strength to hold him up; one hand still clutching her hip, his forehead resting against the back of her neck, breathing hard and heavy against her.

Eventually, he sank back onto his heels, gliding his hands down her back. She lowered to the floor and rolled over, lifting her hips to pull up her pants.

“Coffee?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

She smiled as she sat up, her back against the window. “What else have we got?”

He gave her that lopsided grin and rummaged around in the fridge. “Huh. Bottle of goddamn Asari wine in here.”

“Let’s do it.” She laughed.

He poured it into stemless glasses and sat down beside her. She took her glass and held it up.

“What are we celebrating?”

“Being alive.”

He snorted. “I’ll fucking drink to that.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Shepard/Massani piece I wrote after "Rules and Regs" but even with all the buildup, I'm concerned that I didn't quite make the magic happen. Or didn't prove that it happened. At any rate, this one is weird but I love it.


End file.
